Danny nodded. “Yeah, but we were too committed at that point to care.”
“Why’d you take my truck when you already had a government vehicle?”
“Ernie got drunk and went joy riding. He isn’t a good driver even when sober so he crashed straightaway. He was okay but the truck was totaled. Your truck was handy; you’d even left the keys inside, so all we had to do was find some retreads that fit and we were good to go.”
“Who was your contact man at the dam?”
“Never got his name, but we assumed he was the same guy who signed the letter. He said his signature would get us off the hook if we were caught.”
“You can forget the letter. If I didn’t need your help at Wish-Ham, you’d be in handcuffs right now.”
“I figured as much.”
“What I can’t figure out is why someone as prominent in the community as Feldman would want to sabotage the dam.”
“He’s a Commie,” Danny said. “He said he wanted to destroy the capitalistic way of life. Damaging the spillway was supposed to get everyone’s attention.”
“Hell’s bells. He certainly accomplished that goal.”
“Feldman manipulated us, but I won’t make excuses for what we’ve done. Just get us to Wish-Ham and I’ll do whatever you want me to.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear,” Matthews said. “You find Henry and I’ll deal with Gross and the chopper.” He floored the gas pedal. When the speedometer hit 100, he said, “Whatever happens when we get there, I have your back.”
Sam only glanced at Danny but it was long enough to see the wary look etched on his face. “You had my back at Celilo because of Reba and Ellie,” Sam said. “It’s because of them that I’ll do the same for you today.”
Minutes later, they skidded to a halt at Wish-Ham, horn blaring. The helicopter had landed and men were unloading the attached boxes. “There he is!” cried Danny.
“Henry?”
“No,” Danny said, pointing to two men standing near the landing area. “It’s our contact man. The one who signed the letter I gave you.”
Sam quickly eyed the men Danny indicated. “Can’t be,” Sam said. “That’s my partner and the lead engineer at the dam.” Sam swung his long legs out of the cab. “Go look for Henry. I’ll get Harmon and Beckstrom to help me with the chopper.”
Chapter Forty-Six
When Ellie hadn’t come back home with her father, Dessa was worried. Did Ellie even make it to Celilo or was she somewhere else altogether? There were tons of rumors floating around Hillcrest about what had happened to her. Word had gotten out that Mr. Matthews was an undercover FBI agent, which only caused the stories to become more far-fetched. Ellie had run away from home; Ellie had done something very bad and her father kicked her out; Ellie had some mysterious illness and was dying; Ellie had run off with an older lover. Since Dessa had earned a reputation for always being in the know, she’d been peppered with questions about her friend. Some even expected Dessa to print what had happened to Ellie in the Hillcrest newsletter and, when she didn’t, accused her of covering up the truth.
Dessa wanted to talk to Mr. Matthews but he’d hardly been home since Ellie had left. She figured he’d be at the Reburial Ceremony on Sunday since he was leader of the project. Dessa could catch up with him there—if she could persuade her mother to let her go. Her father was in Washington D.C. attending a public session of what he called a “blatant witch hunt” by Senator Joseph McCarthy. Why he was so interested in the House Un-American Activities Committee made no sense to Dessa and even less to Maureen. All her mother could talk about was how her father willingly spent money on himself for an unnecessary trip to Washington D. C. but wouldn’t even consider the trip to Palm Springs that Maureen wanted. Her mother’s bad mood worked in Dessa’s favor. “I don’t care where you go,” she said when Dessa asked about attending the ceremony. “You and your dad always do what you want anyway. I’ll just sit here at home all by myself like I usually do.”
If her mother’s martyr act was intended to goad Dessa into staying home, it didn’t work. Dessa skipped out of the house with a clear conscience and found a ride to the ceremony with a family next door. She was lucky to get a ride. Most of their Hillcrest neighbors had declined to attend the ceremony, supposedly because they feared there’d be trouble. Despite George Featherstone’s death, the protestors hadn’t stopped demonstrating against the Indians and were likely to show up uninvited and unannounced. Under normal circumstances, Dessa would’ve welcomed the possibility of trouble. She was always in search of a story but not this time. She just wanted to talk to Mr. Matthews and find out if Ellie was all right.
The heat wave had eased off to a sultry seventy-five degrees. The clouds that had been building for several days darkened the afternoon sky. There’d been a slight drizzle when she first arrived at Wish-Ham but it’d quickly died out before the opening prayer service began. Dessa wished she’d thought to bring her plastic rain scarf in case it started to rain in earnest later. A good soaking would be a welcome treat even though it might squelch potential news-worthy violence if the protestors did come to spoil the party.
Dessa found a seat in the bleachers that had been erected for the viewing public. The ceremony had attracted a big crowd. Most were Indians, of course, but quite a few white people had turned out, too. Given the anti-Indian sentiment in town, Dessa thought they had to be tourists hoping to catch a good photo of the history-making event. The drummers and dancers had just entered the area near the gravesite that had been cleared for their performance when Dessa spotted Ellie. She hadn’t expected to see her at the ceremony but the fact that Ellie was present, standing alongside Reba Longstreet, was a relief.
As far as Dessa could tell from a distance, Ellie seemed okay. She didn’t have any obvious injuries like an arm or leg in a cast, but there was something different about her. She still looked beautiful dressed in a gorgeous blue frock that matched Reba’s outfit. No, the difference was the subdued, almost resigned attitude that she projected. Her shoulders slumped forward as if she were carrying an immense weight on her back. Her head was bowed, not in prayer but in defeat. The last time Dessa had seen Ellie she’d been furious with her father, sobbing and ranting about how he’d lied to her. She’d been angry but just as resolute in her need to right some wrong that her father had supposedly committed. Ellie was so strong-willed that a suffocating heat wave hadn’t stopped her from setting out on the long walk to Celilo. That girl wasn’t here today.
“Hi, Ellie.” When she didn’t respond, Dessa couldn’t decide whether she just hadn’t heard her greeting or had purposefully ignored it. Dessa drew a little closer and addressed Reba. “It’s good to see you again.”
Reba was as welcoming as ever. “Dessa, what a pleasant surprise. Thank you for coming today.”
The drummers and dancers were about to start their performance. “Is Danny dancing today?” Dessa asked. She hadn’t seen him with the others.
Ellie faced Dessa at the mention of Danny. “What?”
“I asked about Danny, but I’m more concerned about you,” she said, studying Ellie closely. Although she kept her head down so that her long hair covered most of her face, it was still possible to see that Ellie was recovering from some nasty bruises and facial swelling. “Are you all right? Everyone has been worried about you.”
A tense silence followed until Reba intervened. “Ellie, why don’t you invite your friend to sit with us in the bleachers. The dancing is about to start.”
Ellie shrugged, which Dessa took as the best she was going to get for an invite.
Although the colorful dancers were entertaining, Dessa’s mind wandered. She hadn’t learned a thing yet about Ellie’s ordeal, or even if whatever had happened to her was an ordeal. If th
e bruising on her face was any indication, it was something bad. Ellie might not be able or willing to talk about it, but that was okay for now. Dessa’s reporter instincts were aroused and she wouldn’t be deterred from discovering what had happened. Not for a news story but simply because Ellie was her friend. It was a friendship she’d never sought when they first met, but which had come to mean everything to Dessa now.
A sudden droning sound in the sky caught her attention. As she looked up, a huge mechanical bird whirled toward the open field. As she watched the craft descend, she noticed two big boxes strapped to either side and concluded that they contained the cargo of bones to be reburied. Several men had assembled at a safe distance to wait for the helicopter to land. She assumed that they were government employees since they wore the same type of hard hats and work clothes Mr. Matthews favored. Ellie’s father was supposed to oversee the whole shebang, but he didn’t seem to be anywhere around. Dessa asked Reba, “Where’s Mr. Matthews?”
“He’s on the helicopter,” she said.
The dancing and drumming ended just as the bird set down. As the blades slowly stopped rotating, the men in hard hats got ready to remove the boxes. Meanwhile, the dancers and other Indians began to form two parallel lines stretching from the landing area to the gravesite. “What’s going on?” Dessa asked.
“Our ancestors have arrived,” Reba said. “We’re lining up now to welcome them to their new resting place.” She tapped Ellie’s shoulder as she stood. “Come, child. It’s time to go.”
Ellie didn’t seem eager to join the welcoming committee. She stared at the helicopter and said, “Do I have to go?”
When Reba hesitated, Dessa said, “She can stay with me.” Half-turning in her seat, she waved in the direction of her neighbors. “It’s okay, I’m here with family friends.” Calling them family friends was overstating the relationship, but it was close enough.
Reba looked at the helicopter. The pilot had climbed out and the men had begun to unstrap the boxes. No sign of Mr. Matthews yet. Turning to Ellie, Reba said, “I guess it’s all right if you stay here. If you see Danny, let me know.”
As they watched Reba join the welcoming line, Dessa asked, “What’s up with Danny? I thought he’d be here front and center? You said he danced at all the pow-wows.”
Ellie’s look was derisive and her tone dismissive. “This isn’t a pow-wow.” She might as well have added, “you fool.”
A truck traveling at breakneck speed with its horn blaring flew past the bleachers toward the landing area. “Hey!” someone shouted behind the girls. “What’s that maniac think he’s doing?” The Indians in the welcoming line stood unfazed as the truck tore past them. The men carrying the boxes, though, were so startled by the commotion that they stumbled and nearly dropped their cargo.
When the truck reached the landing area, the driver slammed on the brakes and fishtailed to a stop in front of the helicopter. Mr. Matthews bounded out of the driver’s door as Danny exited the passenger’s side.
“I thought your father was supposed to be riding in the helicopter,” Dessa said. “And why’s Danny with him?”
“Something’s wrong,” Ellie said, springing to her feet.
By now, most of the spectators in the bleachers were on their feet as well, craning their necks to see what was happening. A woman next to Dessa asked, “Is this part of the program?”
While Mr. Matthews talked to a couple of men who’d been standing near the helicopter, Danny ran over to where the Indians had formed the greeting lines. Ellie was anything but listless as she scrambled out of the bleachers and raced to join him. Dessa caught up with her just as Danny grabbed Ellie by the shoulders. His eyes were wide with fear. “Have you seen Henry?” he cried.
Reba broke through the crowd. “What’s the matter, Danny?”
“We’ve got to find Henry quick!”
“Why wasn’t Sam on the helicopter?” Reba asked.
“There’s a big problem.” He gestured to the Indians who’d begun to break from the line and mill about. “I need you and Ellie to get everyone moving as far away from the helicopter as possible while I look for Henry.”
Reba seemed to understand the urgency, if not the source of Danny’s panic, and began at once to herd the welcoming party toward the safety of the bleachers. Ellie chased after Danny but Dessa was torn. Should she help Reba or follow Danny and Ellie? The decision was made for her when she heard the unmistakable sound of the helicopter’s whirling blades. Whatever Danny feared would happen wasn’t going to involve the helicopter. It was in the sky. The pilot maneuvered the craft so that it skimmed beneath the mean-looking cloud cover that ominously announced an impending storm. Within seconds of the ‘copter’s departure, raindrops began to splash onto Wish-Ham’s rocky soil.
Danny looked up briefly as the bird disappeared out of sight, but he didn’t stop his frantic search for Henry. “Have you seen Henry?” he asked repeatedly as he darted through the crowd. He asked the drummers, the dancers, and every other Indian he encountered, but no one had seen the elusive Henry.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Sam’s heart banged against his chest as he flung himself out of the truck to reach the helicopter in time. It seemed a little odd that Jess Harmon and Phillip Beckstrom were at the landing site. Even odder that they were standing side-by-side, as if they were old buddies. Harmon had made a point of ducking his designated point man whenever he could and Beckstrom had no interest in anything that involved the Indians. Since warning Gross was uppermost in Sam’s panic-stricken mind, he didn’t bother to question their presence. He was just grateful that they were on hand. He would need all the help he could get to find the dynamite that Henry had planted somewhere nearby.
Thank God you’re here!” gasped Sam.
Harmon nudged Beckstrom in the ribs. “Did you see the way he handled that truck? You’ve missed your calling, man. You should be on the race car circuit. The gibe at Sam’s expense got a chortle out of Beckstrom but Harmon’s jovial mood was short-lived. He glared at Sam and growled, “What’s the big fucking rush?”
His partner’s attitude was exasperating but Sam didn’t have time to deal with it. “I need your help!” he blurted. He glanced toward the helicopter. “Gross and his craft are in extreme danger.”
Beckstrom smirked as Harmon said, “Hold on, partner. There’s no need for hysterics. Everything’s under control here—even if you’re not.”
That Harmon and Beckstrom had so casually discounted the seriousness of the situation angered Sam. “Listen, guys, I’m not joking around!” He quickly told them what had happened at the spillway. “And they’ve targeted the chopper with an even more powerful blast. We’ve already got one person dead and everyone here is at risk, too. We’ve got to warn Gross and find out where the dynamite is stashed.”
“No,” Harmon said. “I’m warning you. It’s time for you to come clean.”
“What . . . what are you talking about.”
“Gross told us how you made him drop you at the spillway so you could meet up with your Injun buddies. He bailed when the blast went off and he’s not sticking around here, either.” He gestured to the pilot who’d climbed back into his craft as soon as the boxes were unloaded. “Sorry to disappoint you but whoever you were expecting to rescue us from, never showed up with the dynamite. Gross is more worried about the storm that’s coming.” The whirring noise from the helicopter’s rotating blades made his last point unnecessary. “He’s leaving now.” Steady rain drops began to fall as Gross maneuvered the craft into the air.
Sam was at a loss for words.
“Didn’t think we’d catch you, did you?” Beckstrom said with a triumphant sneer. “I knew you weren’t on the up and up from the moment you arrived a
t the dam.” He pulled a piece of paper from his shirt pocket. “And this is the evidence that proves I was right about you all along. You’re nothing but a Commie sympathizer posing as some kind of patriotic government man.” He spit at Sam’s shoes. “You disgust me.”
“No, I . . .”
Harmon put his hand up to stop Sam. “Don’t try to deny it. The letter Beckstrom found in your office desk is what you used to trick the Indians into helping you with your sabotage plan. They stupidly believed that you had approval from the Portland Bureau to recruit them for some cockamamie project. Your investigation of Danny Longstreet and the others at Celilo was just a big ruse to throw us off.” His accusatory diatribe was cut short when something behind Sam caught Harmon’s eye. “What the hell?”
As Sam turned around, a dozen protestors carrying homemade cardboard signs marched onto the rain-splattered grounds, chanting and waving their fists in the air.
“Shit!” roared Harmon. “Beckstrom, take a couple of your men and head off those loonies. I’ve got enough to deal with here.”
Philip Beckstrom’s disappointed expression wasn’t hard to read. He’d much rather watch Harmon destroy Sam than chase down protestors. After he’d trudged off, Sam said, “What’s going on, Jess? You know damn well I’m no Commie saboteur.”
Harmon’s lips twisted in a bitter smile. “No, but you are a drunk who ruined my life.”
“Is that what this is all about? Revenge? Getting back at me for your suffering?”
“Ha! You don’t know the half of what I’ve suffered. I almost died because of you. I had two major surgeries in as many months, spent thirty days in a coma, and underwent weeks of physical therapy just so I could walk again without looking like some goddamn pitiful gimp.”
“You know how bad I feel, and if I could—”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass about how you feel. My fiancé took one look at my scarred face and left, I missed the filing deadline for promotion to Bureau Chief while I was hospitalized, and every day is a constant struggle to get back even half the life I used to have. They assigned me to the Chambers’ homicide investigation because I pleaded on bended knee that I could handle more than the desk duty they stuck me with after my so-called recovery.”
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